Lucky Number XIII
by queendolfin
Summary: When Lae Novak meets a handsome stranger outside her house, she has no idea who is he or what he was. Or how he'll change her life. Lae just wanted to have a normal senior year. Unfortunately, Creed never did like to play it fair.


Hi! Thanks for reading! I love Train and Black Cat, but neither of them get enough love on here. Anyways, this story is on Quizilla and Lunaescence under the same name. I don't own Black Cat or Train. Enjoy and please review :3

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**Chapter I: I've Come to Deliver the _New York Times_**

When her TV alarm sputtered to life at 6:42 AM—exactly three hours and eight minutes later than she had been waking up over the summer—and a falsely enthusiastic male voice declared those born under Saturn to beher most compatible based on horoscopes, Lae knew immediately that today was a Bad Day. She knew that as surely as she knew all her new teachers would begin her junior year by incorrectly pronouncing her name as Leah.

It took a lot of convincing on the television announcer's part to get her out of bed. Actually, she got so fed up with the man rambling cluelessly about her, admittedly, nonexistent love life that she threw off the thin covers and hurled her stuffed calico cat Smidge at the power button.

Of course, she had spent so much trying to stay asleep that she had maybe nine minutes before the eye-glaring, gas-guzzling, air-polluting school transportation arrived.

Crawling out of her squealing bed with difficulty, Lae avoided the pile of clothes and papers on the carpet of her room much as a sailor would navigate through rocky waters. The young woman dressed extra fast in a pair of fashionably faded and artfully torn blue jeans and a tie-died turquoise and fuchsia t-shirt to make up for the lost time. Without bothering to brush it, she gathered her straight black hair and tied it into a high tail that reached halfway down her back. Pausing only to snatch her school bag from beneath a pile of clothing, Lae hurried out of the room and down the stairs to catch her bus.

"Good morning," her father greeted, planting a kiss on the back of her head as she passed him in search of something filled with sugar and fun marshmallow shapes, "get the paper on your way out."

Lae grunted her consent and stole a handful of Lucky Charms for a quick breakfast when his back was turned. Her father did not allow eating outside of the kitchen, not even in the dinning room without company.

Which was never.

Which rather defeated the purpose of having a dinning room.

Lae stomped bad temperedly toward the front door, rolling the marshmallows around on her tongue and occasionally popping a flavorless toasted oat to join the pots of gold and rainbows, not to mention the red balloons.

The cereal remaining in the teen's palm slipped through her fingers when she opened the door and found to her unpleasant surprise that curled on the doorstep was _not_ the local newspaper, it wasn't even the occasional stray cat. It was something considerably larger, distinctly human, and quite likely dead.

"_Dad_!" she shrieked.

Dad came running, the mug of coffee in his right hand splashing over the well-kept carpet in his haste to reach his screaming daughter. The ceramic mug smashed on cement, and Dad swore, using the kind of language that lands students in five-o'clock-detentions and locks children in their bedroom with no food or water for a week.

"Go get your mother," he ordered, taking the incapacitated young man by the arm and dragging him inside. "Tell her this is an emergency."

Lae protested weakly, pointing half a block away where a bulky yellow vehicle resembling her school bus could be seen pulling away. "Forget school," her father yelled, though he was not a frequent yeller, "This man needs medical attention!"

She scampered, calling for her mother in the tone of voice her five-year-old brother used during thunderstorms.

Shannon Novak, a beauty by all standards despite her forty-three years, descended the stair gracefully, a crimson silk robe clutched around her. Her wet blonde hair flew out behind in a mess her when she saw the scene by the main entrance of her house.

"Will—What? You haven't... _killed_ somebody?"

She rushed forward to aid her husband with carrying the burden. Lae followed behind her parents, forgotten, as they argued about the man, who, after close inspection, appeared to be sleeping.

Their speculations about who the mysterious stranger might be ranged from a lost tourist, a mugged citizen, or a pursued criminal. She hoped it was the first because, as her parents lay him down on an unused couch, Lae caught sight of the young man's face and saw just how handsome he was.

Okay, so, his hair resembled a porcupine or a brown sea urchin, but she found his gravity-defying style interesting. His choice in clothing was also... interesting. The light blue jacket and pants weren't _too_ unusual—people wore all sorts of strange colors and materials these days—but the buttons definitely looked like an unhealthy snack called donuts. A miniature gold bell tinkled cheerily on his black choker when he shifted.

"Heh, I was right about you not being a stray cat," Lae muttered with a grin.

She reached out two fingers to touch the bell and gasped when a warm, calloused hand grabbed her wrist. The brunette had opened his eyes. They were intense and yellow with dark slits for pupils. The first thing she thought was, _Lord Voldemort_, the next, _cat's eyes_, and finally—finally—a more logical explanation came to her mind: _colored contacts_.

"Foooood," he moaned, opened his mouth wide, and fell back onto the couch with a snore.

Lae deadpanned, muttered a few choice words under her breath, and fought to free herself. She could have sworn she saw the corners of his mouth inch up. His body shook with suppressed laughter as she struggled futilely against his vice-like grip. Then again, she was moving so much that even a spineless rag would look alive.

_Ding dong!_

"Ahhh...!"

The shock of the doorbell so startled the poor girl that she fell over backwards, smacking her shoulder soundly against the coffee table in the process. But at least the grip on her wrist weakened sufficiently for her to tumble away on her own.

Half-muttered curses spewed from her mouth like a drunken sailor as she flew to the door for the second time that morning. Lae steeled herself for the worst as she pulled open the heavy wooden door, ready to face anything from a worried elderly mother to the cops brandishing big black guns.

Well, maybe not the guns.

A tall, one-eyed man with seaweed for hair, holding a silver briefcase, and dressed in an off-white suit with a matching hat stood on the first step. A young blonde in a black dress waited beside him. The little girl gazed wordlessly at the older female before turning to the man, who Lae assumed was her father, and asking, "Are you sure this is the base?"

_'Base?' Must have been 'place.' Maybe she has an accent._

The green-haired man looked down at a crumpled piece of paper in his hand and rattled off the address of Lae's house. "It should be," he responded calmly.

The girl's amethyst eyes flicked back to Lae, who still stood with her mouth hanging open, looking like an idiot. "Where's Train?" she inquired monotonously.

"A great question," the adult said with an annoyed smile, but without much enthusiasm.

Apparently, they were used to this Train—whatever that was—being missing. "Excuse me, Miss," he said politely, "have you seen a strange young man with spiky brown wearing a blue outfit and a collar loitering around?"

Lae, after just gathering enough of her wits to close her mouth for a couple of seconds, had to open it again to answer the gentleman.

"Yeah, uh, he's lying passed out on my couch right now," she said with what she thought was admirable calm. "Is he..." _Your son? Brother? Cousin?_ _...Lover?_

"An acquaintance," the child supplied, staring at Lae in a way that made the older girl feel about as intelligent as her kid brother Ian.

He was tiny and cute as could be, but _not_ a person one wanted to be compared to in terms of brains. Especially not by a younger girl half one's size.

"'Acquaintance'!? That's cold, Little Princess!" an annoying voice whined.

Lae managed not to run away screaming, but she did jump about five feet into the air with a high-pitched yelp. She spun angrily, clutching at the multi-colored spiral over her heart, to see the 'strange young man with spiky brown hair wearing a blue outfit and collar.' He had his hands planted on his hips and was making an expression Lae never thought to see outside manga, anime, and instant messenger:

(。＞3＜。）

Obviously, this 'strange young man with spiky brown hair wearing a blue outfit and collar' far exceeded strange and ventured well into uncharted waters.

"I waited for you for hours, Sven, _hours_!" Lae was brushed aside and nearly collided with an open closet door as the 'strange young man... etcetera' pushed past to pout directly in the older man's narrow, unshaven face. "I couldn't get inside 'cause the key didn't work! Why didn't it work!?"

So he had been trying to break in after all.

"Um, hey..." ventured Lae.

"Shut up, Train!" returned Sven, hitting Train's spiked head with a practiced ease, "Eve and I've been looking for you since last night, don't just go running off by yourself!"

A passing neighbor looked around at the raised, unfamiliar voices and froze for a full five seconds before ducking his head and hurrying away.

"Hey, people..." Lae tried again to interrupt, but with no greater success.

Eve glanced at her, but said nothing to draw the other two's attention.

"I said I was goin' out!"

Ian exited his room, clothed in yellow ducky pajamas with a worn teddy bear clamped to his side, looking for Peanuts, his favorite comic strip in the morning paper. What he found was his elder sister fuming silently at the bottom of the stairs, two arguing outlanders, and a small blonde girl reading Lae's physics textbook. He promptly turned and fled to the safety of his parents' bedroom.

"No, Train, you said: 'buy the milk 'fore I come back'!"

"Exactly!"

"Tra—"

"Shut up talking, the both of you!" The pair of offbeat friends shut up, paling under Lae's formidable rage. "Thank you. Now... who the heck are you idiots!?"

They exchanged a glance, and the Sea Urchin Head shrugged to let the Seaweed Head do the talking.

"My name is Sven Vollfied," he said with a bow. Lae didn't snort, exactly, but a rush of air escaped from her nose. "These are Train Heartnet and Eve." He indicated the grinning man and the girl absorbed in a textbook that was about as interesting as a blank wall. "And you are?"

"Lae Novak," Train said, bending over Eve and looking at the inside cover. He pronounced it as 'Leah,' and Lae twitched in familiar annoyance. "Says so here."

"It says Lae," Eve informed without looking up.

"Yeah... Nice to meet you," Lae began distractedly, but then shook her head vigorously. "No! That's not what I meant! I mean, _who the heck do you think you are to be loitering 'round my house at seven A.M., eh?_"

Sven blinked his one eye. "This is our base," he said.

"This is _my _place," countered Lae.

"No, not 'place,'" he said to her with patience appropriate for the mentally disabled, "base."

"What are you goin' on about? _I_ live _here_!"

"No," Eve contradicted, "_we_ do."

"N—"

"Oh!" Train hit his fist into his open palm and a look of triumphant understanding came over his face. It was quickly replaced by chagrin. "Hey, Sven, remember that thief I caught here two years back?"

"What about him?" asked Sven, suspicious. "If I remember correctly, that's when I was in the hospital and you caught the man to pay medical bills and a good half our debt. That's what you told me."

"Well... I lied," he declared, looking gleefully unconcerned. "I just remember what really happened... I sold our main base to this nice family here."

"You did _**WHAT**_!?"

"By the way," he said chipperly in what seemed a desperate attempt to distract them from his serious misdeeds, "here's your newspaper. It looked like a nice pillow, so sorry it's a bit squished."

Lae snatched the flattened roll and threw it up the stairs behind her, wincing when she heard a crash. It sounded like something expensive had just broken. Probably that priceless Ming vase left by Lae's long-dead great-grandmother.

"You did what?" she repeated angrily.

"Well, 'bye now."

Lae and Sven each grabbed one of Train's arms, trapping him before he escaped.

"You did what?" she demanded for the third time.

Train looked back ruefully. He had that look that said: 'I just know you're gonna forgive me, Leah.' She wouldn't count on that. First, she'd shoot him dead for saying her name wrong, and saying it wrong twice at that. Then, she'd kill him for making her late for school on the first day. _Then_, she'd hear his explanation. And then—you got it—she'd bang out the gun again.

The third time, after all, is the charm.

Excuse me; the _thirteenth_ time is the charm, here.


End file.
